


🎵 it's my dick in a jar 🎵

by candleaight (itsmesammie)



Category: Venom (Movie 2018), the hand that feeds
Genre: Crack Taken Seriously, Eddie needs a hug, Masturbation, Other, Smut, eddie gets a little more than a hug, eddie is drunk, i cannot believe this is my first decent sized fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-13
Updated: 2019-03-13
Packaged: 2019-11-17 15:34:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,306
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18101372
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/itsmesammie/pseuds/candleaight
Summary: Chapter 7 of The Hand That Feeds alternate ending. Eddie... has some regrets.





	🎵 it's my dick in a jar 🎵

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Schadenfiend](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Schadenfiend/gifts).
  * Inspired by [The Hand that Feeds](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16399862) by [Schadenfiend](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Schadenfiend/pseuds/Schadenfiend). 



> oh my god

 

Eddie pushes opens the door and staggers into the hallway. He ignores the wet trail he's leaving on the floor and beelines to his bedroom. Eddie slams the door behind him and _locks_ it before dumping himself on the bed and groaning into his covers. He's still breathing heavily. In fact, Eddie is still hard. He can feel his sensitive erection rubbing against his covers.

 

Eddie turns his head to the side to take a shuddering breath before the memory washes back over him. “Fuck, fuck, fuck, shit, fuck, FUCK!” Refocusing in front of him, Eddie's eyes narrow in on his bedside table. Specifically, on the unopened bottle of cake vodka he'd received as a gift months ago. Fuck it, he needs a drink right now.

 

Eddie sits up on the edge of his bed and stumbles with the twist-off before downing as much liquid as he can. Eddie breaks into coughs. _God_ , that's disgusting. And it hurts his throat. The pain feels good. He deserves it. He needs _more._  The liquor burns a path down Eddie's throat as he takes a second swing. And another. And another.

 

Eddie sits and drinks for the better part of an hour. The bottle has less than half-full left by the time it slips from Eddie's hand and rolls onto the floor.

 

Eddie looks at the bottle for a moment before tearing up. “Guuooood, I can't even get drunk proberly.” A sob hiccups its way through Eddie's chest.

 

...A hug. He needs a hug right now. Murder Pudding is still in the bathroom. Eddie tears up. Murder Pudding has been there for him. He doesn't even, it doesn't even, Eddie doesn't even know if the pudding knows but Eddie loves him, it, so, so much. He. Eddie is going to go give his pudding a hug.

 

Leaving his towel behind, Eddie pushes himself off the bed and trips his way over to the door. It's locked. Why is it locked? Eddie unlocks the door. The bathroom. Eddie is going to the bathroom.

 

“Puddin’!” Eddie almost falls onto the bathroom floor. “Pudding, 'm back! I'm back, I'm so sorry I left.” Eddie stumbles to the edge of the bathtub. Pudding is gone. Breath catching in his throat, Eddie splashes his hands through the cold water in the vain hope that perhaps Pudding has simply become invisible. Pudding is not there. Eddie sinks to the bathroom floor and a keen whine escapes his throat.

 

Pudding is gone. Of course Pudding is gone. No one wants to be around Eddie. _Eddie_ doesn't want to be around Eddie. Another whine cuts through his thoughts. It's not his this time. Eddie looks up at the bathroom counter. “Pudding!” Eddie scrambles to the bathroom counter on all fours and scoops his _wonderful_ pudding into his arms.

 

“I love you so much, so, so much, Pudding. I'm sorry for leaving, I won't leave again. I'm not ever going to leave again!” Eddie brings the creature to his lips and absolutely buries his face in it. He's half kissing the creature, half sobbing into it.

 

Pudding, distressed, slides through Eddie's fingers to rest on his bare chest. Tentatively, it spreads itself once more in its simulacrum of a hug. Eddie clutches at his chest, sobbing.

 

Affirmed but confused, Pudding tightens its hold on Eddie. It begins to nuzzle Eddie to the best of its ability. It wasn’t sure what went wrong last time, but this time - this time for sure. Reaching tendrils clutch at Eddie’s skin.

 

Eddie feels Pudding extending across his chest. Arms wrap round Eddie’s upper body, caressing his shoulders, his ribcage, his, _oh god,_  his _nipples_ again. Eddie feels his pulse quicken and blood beginning to pool in his dick. He feels the horror, the shame, the guilt, beginning to creep up through his chest into his throat - and violently shoves it back down. It's still there in the back of this throat, but he ignores it. Eddie focuses on the other feelings blooming in his stomach.

 

Eddie feels warm. He feels _loved._ Hisdick twitches. It had been 6 months since he’d been touched so lovingly. He - he loves Murder Pudding so much. _His_ Murder Pudding. He feels so full, like he's going to burst.

 

A particularly firm roll of Eddie's nipples, and Eddie’s sobs cut off into shudders. Eddie becomes hyper-aware of his nudity as he squirms on the bathroom floor. His skin is _crawling_ right now - calling for more touch, _more_. The self-loathing pushes back into Eddie's thoughts. Oh god, what was he doing, Pudding didn't even know. He couldn't, he didn't -

 

He cut his thoughts off by seizing his fully-erect dick. An incoherent moan rolls through him. Nnnoope. None - none of that right now. Only good feelings allowed. Eddie darts his tongue out to wet his lips and adjusts his hand. _Good_ feelings.

 

Eddie starts by dragging the pads of his fingers up his length, slowly enough to feel but not enough to provide any real relief. He can feel the beginning of that upward climb already, but Eddie doesn't want to end things so quickly. It's so, it's so _nice_ to connect with someone else.

 

Eddie looks down at his chest. Pudding had retracted a few of its smaller extensions to create a head. Its eyespots are trained on where Eddie’s hand continues to caress his dick. A wave of shame-laced pleasure shoots down Eddie’s spine at the realization that Murder Pudding is _watching_ him. Eddie’s eyes close as he groans and swipes his thumb over the tip of his leaking cock. “Oughh, yesssss”

 

He opens his eyes and looks down at Pudding again. He, he can’t, Pudding can’t watch him. He tries to cup Pudding’s head and guide it back towards the mass on his heaving chest, but the creature swivels its head to look Eddie in the face. It cocks its head at him.

 

Eddie freezes. He couldn’t - he shouldn’t be doing this. He. He needs to stop right now. Eddie retracts his hand from his dick and gently begins scooping the creature off his chest. Pudding’s eyespots widen as they realize what’s happening. No. Not again.

 

They dive out of his hands, landing on his stomach, and wrap themself tight round whatever they could reach. Pudding made sure to focus a substantial amount of themself around the flesh their preferred-host touched earlier. They had heard a “yes.” He wanted to be held here for sure.

 

Eddie is _wheezing._  What the - shit, the fuck. He can feel Pudding writhing around his dick and - oh _god_ \- it’s gotta, he’s gotta get it _off,_ it, they’ve got no idea. He clutches at the creature, but it simply slips through his fingers like fluid. Tendrils begin to wrap around his balls and massage them. Eddie’s hips twitch into the movements. Eddie can feel himself getting _closer._ He looks around the bathroom desperately. His eyes land on the counter above him. The jar.

 

Eddie scrambles to snatch the jar off the counter. He slams it over his dick with one hand and begins pushing the extensions holding onto his pelvis into the jar with the other. Pudding, agitated, tightens its hold on Eddie’s pelvis and begins twisting more intensely. Eddie throws his head back against the bathroom cabinets. He ends up with both hands on the jar holding on for dear life as his hips stutter into Pudding’s movements. He can’t, it’s so hot, what, what the shit, what the, he’s gonna, he’s - Eddie presses into the jar and his voice cracks as a long, low moan reverates through his chest and he shoots his release.

 

Eddie collapses against the floor. He’s so tired. There’s movement against his pelvis, but it’s soothing. Did he have something important to do…? Eddie’s thoughts drift away from him as his vision fades to black.

**Author's Note:**

> oh my god what did i write


End file.
